


Romeo and Juliet - Remix

by Trixxification



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trixxification/pseuds/Trixxification
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bard's classic tale, retold with our two favourite leading ladies. Every so slightly AU. Also, we all know how this play ends - so be warned!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't going to all be written like the original – the following chapters will be written in usual story format, following loosely the events of the original tale. Long live the Bard's work.

Two departments both alike in dignity,

In fair LA where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new destiny.

Where civil blood makes police hands unclean.

From forth the divisions who are such foes

A pair of star-crossed leaders take their jobs' life;

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Doth with their departure bury their branches' strife.

The fearful passage of their job-losing love,

And the continuance of their superiors' rage,

Which, but the lovers' exit, nought could remove,

Is now the traffic of the following pages;

The which if you with patient minds attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.


	2. Act One Scene One

Summer always seemed to rouse the knuckleheads. At least, in Provenza's opinion. He could see the two rookie cops from The Wicked Witch's department approach Lieutenants Tao and Sanchez. The hairs on the back of his neck stood like soldiers – he could the boys were going to try and start something again.

Tao's back stiffened and Sanchez adopted his typical 'tough guy' pose.

"Officer Sampson, Officer Gregory. What brings you to our department today?" the bald man questioned.

"Oh you know. Just checking up. Wondering if Provenza's accidentally shot a pedestrian today?"

Provenza's lips moved in to a straight line. _One time. **One** time I get a twitch in my arm, and these damn rookies think they're better than me._

"Sampson, I'd be careful what I say, if I were you. Wouldn't want the rumour going around that you were insubordinate to a superior officer now, would we?" Tao was on the warpath. Sure, Louie could be cranky and sullen, but at the end of the day he was part of his team.

The younger men blanched. Sampson shook his head, whilst Gregory spoke up, "I dunno, man. Reckon I might get a medal for finally sending the old coot in to retirement."

Sanchez's tightly balled fists came up to his chest-level, his legs spread and knees locked in preparation to attack. Before Tao could stop his partner, the usually quiet man's fist made contact with the rookie's face.

From his chair in the Murder Room, Provenza flinched. The heat definitely brought out the crazies. But who was he to get in the way of a good brawl? Like they said, he was too old for this sort of thing.

As the fight continued, the white-haired man noticed Assistant Chief Pope storm through the room and toward the fighting men. _Uh-oh. All this for little old me?_

"All right, you lot. Stop it! You're behaving like animals. I know it's hot and you all want to piss in each other's sandboxes – but save it for the inter-department softball game, for God's sake! If I catch you lot brawling like this again, there's going to be hell to pay. Gregory, Sampson, you both know what'll happen if I get Captain Raydor on to you – now move it! Back to your departments, and that's the end of it".

* * *

A weary Sharon Raydor entered the office of the Force Investigation Division. She may feel like crap, but she'd be damned if she went to work in anything less than a perfectly pressed suit and matching stilettos. From her right, she saw her one true work friend approach her – the devilishly handsome Lieutenant Ben Mitchell. Her eyes travelled over his physique. He looked impeccable today. Wavy blonde hair combed back, a sparkle in his cobalt eyes, shined black dress shoes, pinstripe pants and the first few buttons of his white shirt undone. _Well,_ she thought, _at least I have him to get me through the day._

"Captain, how are you?!"

The brunette smiled wanly at her companion and moved toward her office door. Motioning for him to join her, the couple moved through the doorway shutting the heavy door behind them.

"Honestly, Ben, don't you think it's a bit early to be so bloody cheery?" She inwardly cursed at herself for her brusque tone.

"Sharon, it's nine o'clock. You're usually on your third cup of coffee right now, what's wrong with you?"

The older of the two contemplated lying to her friend, but quickly changed her mind. Who else could she _possibly_ use as a sounding board?

"I guess time just goes by so slowly when you're sad, Ben."

The young man grimaced sympathetically. _Maybe I can make her feel better,_ he thought. Truth be told, he may have a _slight_ hot-for-teacher fantasy about her.

"What's making you so sad? Is it your kids? I know! Your daughter's pregnant, isn't she? Such a shame. I always thought . . ." The young man's mind and mouth were going a million miles an hour, so the Captain cut in.

"No no no no no. My kids are _fine_ thank you. No, I'm just . . . forlorn, I guess. I don't have someone to make the long days seem shorter, that's all."

"So, you're in love?"

"Out-" she began.

"Of love?" Damnit, she just couldn't get a word in edge-ways with this man.

"No!" She dragged the word out long and purposefully. "Out of her favour where I am in love."

If the man was shocked, he didn't show it. _Well, I'll be adding THAT to my list of fantasies._

"What'd you do? Hang on, you never even told me you were seeing anyone, you old dog!"

"Well, it was an on-again-off-again kind of thing. One minute I love her, the next I hate her. One day we're at each other's throats and the next we're in each other's pants. She makes me feel so hot and cold. Like I'm a feather made out of lead, or I'm asleep while being awake – she just . . . puts me off balance. I don't know myself when I'm around her. You must want to laugh at me."

The younger man folded his hands in his lap.

"Sharon, you're my friend. If you're sad, then I'm sad. If you jump off a cliff, I arrange your funeral. Okay? As for the girl? Well, I think she's probably too toxic for you. Look for someone else. It's harsh, but you know I only ever tell you the truth"

The older of the two nodded her head meekly. She could always rely on Ben to lend a listening ear.

"Look, we should probably get to work, but I'm always here if you need someone to talk to. Or a drinking buddy. Or, you know, some other kind ofbuddy that could help release your tension." He winked at her.

A smile finally graced the captain's lips.

"Thank you, Ben. Shall we do lunch?"

"You bet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm incorporating lines/modernised versions of lines (usually the more famous ones) in to the dialogue of the fic. No prizes for spotting them lol. As you may have noticed, all main events from A1S1 have been included (including the brawl), but some minor details have been left out.
> 
> PS: Reviews are like caffeine.


	3. Act One Scene Two

  **Act One Scene Two**

Sergeant Paris sat in the staffroom, his giant mug of coffee almost finished. Today just wasn't his day. First, his car had broken down on the way to work, then he couldn't find his key card to get in to the LAPD building – and, to top it all off, he had embarrassed himself in front of Deputy Chief Johnson by accidentally addressing her as 'Sir'. He was certainly looking forward to the end of his shift. He took a sip from his cup.  _Well,_ he thought,  _at least there's that party tonight. If I drink enough, I can forget the day._ A long sigh crept slowly from his mouth.  _Bugger, Officer Caplan is here. Pleasedon'ttalktome, pleasedon'ttalktome . . ._

"Sergeant. What's up, man? Going to the pre-game party tonight?"  _Too late._

The superior officer offered a sharp nod. "Yeah man, gotta patch things up with the chief."

The younger of the two men was sceptical. "Chief Johnson? You sure? Don't you think it's a bit soon to be chasing after her? You know what chicks are like when they get divorced. Is she even  _going_ to the party tonight?"

"'Course she is, she doesn't have to curb her drinking now with Mr. FBI gone. Man, she'll be on the  _rebound_ **."**

The Officer laughed. "Lucky for you! That's the only way you have a shot!"  _Oh great, Caplan's in another one of his ' I'm hilarious ' moods._

The sergeant offered what he hoped sounded like a sincere chuckle. "Yeah, all right man. We'll see who's laughing at the end of the night."

"No offence, but do you even have a game plan?"  _Great, this little shit thinks I have no moves. If he wasn't one of my best men, I'd run him out of the bloody department._

"Just watch and learn buddy, watch and learn."

"All right, man. But I still reckon it's too soon. You gotta take your time and  _woo_ her." The sergeant sniggered.  _Woo her? Who the fuck does he think he is – Romeo?_

"Don't you have some work to do? Quit bugging me, I'll show you my moves tonight – don't you worry."

The younger man nodded and turned toward the doorway. As he was walking down the corridor, he could hear his superior office yell out to him.

"And don't forget to take notes!"

* * *

A sharp knock rang through Captain Sharon Raydor's office door.

"Come in!"

The model-like physique of her friend Ben sauntered through her doorway, carrying a tray of coffee and what could only be some delicious treat to get her through the rest of the afternoon. She smiled brightly at him.

"The nectar of the gods! You have no idea how much I need that coffee, Ben."

The younger man grinned cheekily at her. "Who says I'm sharing?"

The captain rolled her eyes, reaching both hands out in child-like glee. Her friend handed her a tall latte, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

"Drink that up, and we'll talk about this party tonight."

"Oh no. No no no no no. I am  _not_ going to that party. Everyone will be too afraid to have fun, they'll be worried about looking bad in front of me."

"Shar, no one cares about Internal Affairs when they're drunk and riling each other up for the softball game tomorrow. Come on, you need to  _relax,"_ the man drew the last word out, pulling the 'a' as far as he could. Sharon raised a perfectly groomed brow.

"What? You're going to stick by me the entire night while everyone else avoids me like the plague?"

Ben offered a lopsided smile, winking before he spoke. "Stick by a beautiful woman all night? Of course!" he ended his flirtation with a shrug of his right shoulder.

Sharon blushed. Ben was nothing if not a charmer.

"Come on, Sharon. It'll be fun! Maybe you'll meet someone to take your mind off your mystery woman. Maybe someone tan, with blue eyes, blonde hair, ridiculously good-looking – "

The brunette cut him off, raising her brows incredulously. "You're just describing yourself, now."

The blonde man offered another of his patented winks "Well, if the shoe fits . . . "

Sharon smiled. "All right then. I'll go. BUT, you have to promise me you'll keep me company."

"Of course I will. As long as you promise to HAVE FUN. That's all I ask. And maybe, maybe you could try looking for someone else. Someone not so," he grimaced, " _insane_."

She smirked, rolling her eyes.

The two continued to drink their coffees, discussing the odds on tomorrow's game, chatting about anything and everything in between.

Although the conversation had moved on, Sharon couldn't keep her mind off the fast-approaching evening.  _He's wrong. No one at the party's going to measure up to Rose. She might be bat-shit crazy, but I love her. Is that so wrong?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I guess you've figured out:
> 
> \- Romeo = Sharon Raydor
> 
> \- Juliet = Brenda Johnson
> 
> \- The Prince = Will Pope
> 
> \- Sampson and Gregory (servants) = well, Officers Sampson and Gregory
> 
> \- Paris = Sergeant Paris
> 
> \- Benvolio = Ben Mitchell
> 
> \- Rosalind = Rose
> 
> Sorry for the short update! But it's a bit hard to re-write an arranged marriage - so I skipped most of it.


	4. Act One Scenes Three, Four and Five (part one)

**Act One Scene Three**

It was close to 11PM when Brenda Leigh finished her fourth – or was it fifth? – glass of Merlot. The southern blonde had done the rounds all ready; she'd talked to her fellow Major Crimes workers, politely conversed with Will Pope, spoke as briefly as possible to Taylor and fended off a few advances from some younger officers. She sighed. Everyone her age had gone home to their spouses, leaving her with the younger members of the LAPD. She could have  _sworn_ some of these guys weren't even old enough to be out of high school. The bartender handed her another glass.  _Well, at least they have an open bar._ She sniggered to herself. _Drinking alone – coulda stayed home for this,_ she thought wryly.

A firm hand clasped Brenda's left shoulder and she swiftly swung around, shocked at the intrusion.

"Officer Caplan," she offered with a curt nod and just a hint of a smile.

"Chief, how's it going?"  _Oh dear Lord, how many come-ons do I need in a night? I'm barely even divorced!_

"Y'know divorced, bitter, possibly a lil'bit drunk."  _Maybe if I sound sorry for myself he'll leave me alone._

"Come on, Chief. You don't need mister hot-shot FBI. Actually, I know of someone who could help you out a bit, if you know what I mean".  _Oh no no no no no, not again. Not another one._

She scoffed. "Lemme guess, it's you?"

A small smirk adorned his lips. "Nah, I'm a little low-ranking, don't you think?"  _Well no shit._ "Sergeant Paris, on the other hand . . ." his voice trailed off suggestively.

_Hmm. Paris. He isn't half bad-looking. I wouldn't marry him, but a good screw wouldn't go amiss. He's no Sharon – he's no Sharon? Where on Earth did that come from? The wine. Gotta be._

"Ha. Paris. How'd you find that out?"

"Chief, it's no big secret. There're a lot of men around the precinct who'd like to help you out."

She nodded at him, her mind grasping desperately at words to respond with.

"Apparently so, judgin' by the displays I've had tonight. If Paris shows up, you know where he can find me."

The young man smiled widely at the blonde, and raised his glass of whiskey in salute to his superior.

"Will do, Chief. Don't you worry."

As the officer walked away, Brenda signalled to the bartender for another glass. She was all ready drunk, she may as well keep going. Still alone at the open bar, the chief sat with her glass cradled in her left hand and her chin resting in the other.  _If Paris does show up,_ she thought,  _maybe I'll get lucky._

* * *

**Act One Scene Four**

Sharon Raydor stood inside her oversized walk-in wardrobe feeling utterly uninspired. This wasn't an office party, it wasn't a cocktail party – it wasn't even a drink in a real bar. No, tonight was a booze-filled, depraved, glorified frat party, courtesy of the LAPD. Why they needed to 'pre-game' a softball match, she had  _no_ idea. But, as the department head of one of the teams involved she felt obliged to at least offer a little moral support. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, her reason for attending wasn't quite so heroic - Ben had practically forced her to join him tonight.

Running a hand through her thick auburn hair, she contemplated the clothing hanging before her. Black. Black. Grey. More black. Office wear, office wear, cocktail wear, sweatpants. Finally, her eyes settled on her favourite pair of deep blue jeans. She grabbed a daringly low-cut silk blouse, red with short sleeves and ruffling around the chest area. Deciding to leave the one button undone so as to expose her neck, she found her red pumps to complete her look. Thank goodness when she had applied her make-up she decided to be daring and wear red lipstick. She grabbed her dark blue clutch as the bell sounded downstairs.

* * *

Ben lead her by the arm to his car, opening the door for her before heading to the driver's side. As they pulled out of the driveway, he restarted their conversation.

"Look, don't be so put-out. You'll have a good time tonight, get a little tipsy, flirt a bit and  _hopefully_ move on from that noxious girl you've been seeing."

"Ben," she uncharacteristically whined his name, "no one is even going to want me there. You know, they call me The Wicked Witch." He glanced over to her and raised his eyebrows,

"Yeah, and with good reason" he chided.

She lowered her eyes into slits and pursed her lips, choosing the silent treatment over her usual whip-like retaliation.

Ben raised one hand from the steering wheel, in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry. Look, I'm just saying you should give tonight a shot. You never know, cupid might be on your side."

A quizzical look adorned her face. "Cupid? Seriously? You know I'm Catholic."

"All right then, what's the Catholic equivalent, smarty pants?" He was sure there was no such thing, or if so, she wouldn't have a clue.

"Ever heard of Saint Valentine?" she shook her head in disapproval.

He kicked himself inwardly,  _of bloody course._

"It doesn't matter, really, who the Patron Saint of love is. I'm all ready in love. Well, lust." She tilted her head. "But, it  _could_  lead to something. Or I could just keep being The Wicked Witch." She didn't think she could take it, any more heart break and she may just turn her heart to lead and be done with it.

"All right. Here's the deal.  _We_ are going to get out of this car and head inside.  _You_ are going to go right up to the bar and get yourself the most alcoholic thing you can find.  _Then,_ you and I are going to hit up the dance floor and dance our asses off. Rinse and repeat. When you finally start to loosen up a bit and enjoy yourself, I might let you play with the others."

_Oh great. Dancing._

* * *

**Act One Scene Five, Part One**

As she headed to the bar, from the corner of her eye Sharon could spot a familiar blonde. She was dressed in a form-fitting black dress with a hint of cleavage and – it was a miracle, no kitten heels – a pair of plain black pumps. _Looks like she raided my closet._ Sharon laughed inwardly at her own joke. As the blonde sipped at her drink, Sharon noticed a familiar blush spread across her cheeks, through her belly and down towards her knees.  _Interesting. Brenda Leigh. Not my usual type. Straight. Straight straight straight straight straight. Get a grip._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Apologies for any mistakes, this was written quickly and without a beta. 
> 
> Remember, THE scene is after this. "Oh she doth teach the torches to turn bright".


	5. Act One Scene Five (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lovely ladies finally get together.

From the corner of his eye, Officer Tybalt could see the Captain enter the party. She looked all right, he supposed - for an old woman. He nodded in her direction.

“Can you believe the Wicked Witch actually came out tonight?”

Officer Caplan’s eyes drifted in the direction his friend had gestured. If the rumours roaming around the precinct had any truth to them, there was a whole _other_ kind of coming out the captain needed to do. He shrugged. “I dunno, man. It must be pretty hard having everyone hate you. We give her so much crap, but really, she saves our asses when we fuck up.”

Tybalt couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Caplan was sticking up for _her?_ Maybe he’d all ready had too much to drink. The woman had not once, but twice, reprimanded him for careless use of his firearm. The world was going crazy.

“Anyway, man, don’t worry about it. A little birdy told me that Sergeant Paris is making the moves on the chief tonight. He’s gonna fall flat on his fucking face.”

Tybalt regarded his companion. He was being _serious_? This was actually going to happen? He couldn’t wait to see the tragedy unfold. His mind was all ready starting to come up with ways to mercilessly tease the Sergeant for his faux pas.

With a ‘man-clap’ to Tybalt’s shoulder, Caplan began to head toward some new arrivals to the party. “Mate, I’m off to score with these new chicks. I’ll see you ‘round, yeah?”

Tybalt raised his glass in an act of support and watched as Caplan headed towards the new women. He still couldn’t believe it. Sticking up for Captain Raydor? Surely tomorrow pigs would start flying?

* * *

After several glasses of wine that she could have sworn were actually vinegar, Sharon begged Ben for a reprieve from dancing. She wished she’d worn flats. From the table they were now sitting at, Sharon had an unhindered view of the Chief.

She was sure the blonde shone brighter than the lights hanging from the ceiling. Brenda looked beautiful, delicate even, tucked underneath the bar, hand slowly running up and down the stem of her wine glass. She looked out of place at this party – her dress and heels, softly cascading hair and a contemplative mood; all stood in stark contrast against the short dresses, stripper heels and hair mussed from dancing too hard. Sharon wanted to walk over to her and run her hands through her tumbling hair. She took another swig of her wine. No, that could wait. Her heart pounded in her chest and she once again felt the familiar tingle blossoming between her legs. Again, she questioned her own feelings. _Brenda? Brenda Leigh Johnson? Rule-breaker extraordinaire, poorly-dressed, Deputy Chief Johnson of the LAPD?_

Thud. Thud thud. Her treacherous heart resounded loudly in her ears – surely the whole room could hear? She couldn’t even remember her current lover’s name at this point – her mind was consumed with thoughts of Brenda Leigh. _Love? Is that what all our hate has been concealing? Surely not. If this is love, then I’ve never loved before._ Shaking her head to rid herself of her ridiculous thoughts, she downed the rest of her glass. It was definitely time for a refill – no matter how horrid it tasted.

* * *

Running her hand up and down the stem of her wine glass, Brenda Johnson was in a contemplative mood. She wasn’t a lesbian, that much she knew. Bisexual? Did she even _need_ a label? She was attracted to Sharon Raydor, but who in their right mind wouldn’t be? That hair, the voice, the legs, the smirk, her obsession with rules – what she wouldn’t give to make the woman forget about her rules. The chief supposed she’d always had these sorts of feelings for women - she remembered back in high school when Samantha Perry had brushed her arm against hers, the subsequent tingling in her stomach and the blush forming on her cheeks. There had been so many similar events in her life. So what if she’d never acted on her attraction to women? It couldn’t be that difficult. It surely couldn’t be any worse than when she went all the way with Tim Southall in the back of his Daddy’s pick-up.  

A smooth voice near her ear led her out of her reverie.

“Chief. You look lovely tonight.”

She turned to her right and saw the patented smirk of Captain Sharon Raydor. A smile made its way unbidden on to her face.

“Are you sure you haven’t been looking through my wardrobe for fashion inspiration?” The smirk grew impossibly wider.

The blonde glanced down at her lap then back up to the brunette, tilted her head to the right and batted her eyelashes. “Well, Cap’n, you do have impeccable taste in clothing.”

The older woman grinned, biting lightly at her lower lip. “Flattery, as they say, will get you anywhere.” Two could play at this flirting game. “Another drink, Chief?”

“Merlot, please. I’d like to think we’re past calling each other by title, Sharon.” the blonde purred.

Sharon joined Brenda on the stool next to her, both women nursing their refilled glasses.

The wine had gone to the brunette’s head, and she began to feel reckless.

“If I were to kiss you, Brenda, what would you do?”

Brenda was shocked, although she didn’t show it. She contemplated a moment, and spoke.

“Kiss me?” She again cocked her head to the side, smirking at the older woman, “On the lips that my Mama taught me to use for prayer?”

The brunette raised a perfectly groomed brow.

“Well, your mother _is_ lovely, but doesn’t she know that even saints have lips?”

“Yes, they do, but for prayer.”

“Then, maybe, we should pray. Together.”

Both women subconsciously licked their lips, as the taller women leaned towards the blonde, casting her eyes to her lips. They were both drunk enough to let this happen, and were sure everyone else was too drunk to remember – if they even saw them.

Sharon’s lips met Brenda’s, lightly at first, until the blonde leaned forward and tangled her hand in brunette locks, moaning softly. A deft tongue escaped Brenda’s mouth and traced the outline of the older woman’s mouth. She was swiftly granted access, each of them fighting for dominance. Eventually, the need for oxygen trumped all.

“That was just like a kiss from a fairytale. Or a Mills & Boon book like my Mama used to hide under her bed.”

The brunette smiled, squeezing Brenda’s right hand with her left before bringing it back to the safety of her own knee. The blonde could see an attractive man sneak up behind Sharon.

“Oi, missy. You’ve had your drink. Time to get back on the dance floor.” He’d obviously missed their encounter. With an apologetic smile to Brenda, Sharon took Ben’s proffered hand and followed him out to the dance floor.

* * *

Brenda couldn’t believe it. _That woman. That_ woman had walked right up to her, flirted, kissed her then jetted back to the dance floor with some kind of Greek God, acting as if nothing had happened between them. The kiss had shocked her. There was no doubt in her mind that she had feelings for the brunette. Deeper feelings than she had realised. Feelings that scared her. Of course, the first woman she felt comfortable enough with to go further than the odd flirting glance just had to be _her._ She could grow to love her, she contemplated, if they weren’t destined to hate each other. The strict rule-follower and the rule-bender – there was a match that only ever worked in fiction.

 


	6. Act Two Prologue

**Act Two Prologue**

_Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,_

_And young affection gapes to be his heir._

_That fair for which love groaned for and would die,_

_With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair._

_Now Romeo is beloved and loves again._

_Alike bewitched by the charm of looks;_

_But to his foe supposed he must complain,_

_And she steals love's sweet bait from fearful hooks._

_Being held a foe, he may not have access_

_To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;_

_And she as much in loves, her means much less_

_To meet her new-beloved anywhere._

_But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,_

_Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet._

* * *

Dancing with Ben, hips gyrating and hair thrown back, Sharon's mind continued to wander toward the blonde. How could one little drunken encounter with the chief make her forget all about her lover? Sure, Karyn was a bitch, but that was what made the sex so good. Her mind continued to draw comparisons between her on-again off-again girlfriend and the wide-mouthed southerner.

Sure, both were beautiful – but only the chief's beauty gave Sharon pause. Karyn might have the abs of a lesbian gym owner and be a dynamo in the sack, but Brenda's brain was equally athletic and there was no doubt in Sharon's mind that her fiery temperament would spill over in to any sexual activities.

Could she have been in love with the blonde all along, purposely dwelling on Karyn's faults so she would sabotage their relationship? Her mind couldn't decide. There had always been an undercurrent of lust, that much was true, but love? At nearly sixty years of age, Sharon found her brand new ability to fall in love with someone in a matter of mere minutes truly astounding.

But had it really been minutes? Sharon could recall seeing Brenda in that red dress for her meeting with the mayor – pride had swelled in her chest and a smile etched on to her face. But there had been more. She had felt her heart beat faster; her palms sweat and a tingle flutter down from her chest towards her toes. Sharon could see it now – she had been falling for the blonde for longer than she'd realised. And tonight, with the inhibition-erasing properties of alcohol she had been able to see her feelings for what they truly were – love.

The song switched again to something just as upbeat and the crowd around her went wild. Her jade eyes swept the room and she spotted what they were all cheering about – one of the girls from Hollywood Division was on top of the bar, twisting and turning her body, dipping low and coming back up with her hands running over her body. Inwardly, the brunette was relieved – there was no way her little tryst with Brenda was going to be the highlight of this party. She felt warm hands move around her waist and turned to see Ben's sparkling eyes boring in to hers.

"C'mon, Sharon. Let's give her a run for her money." He clasped her left hand in his right, bringing his right arm around her waist and pulling her close. With deft footsteps he lead her around the dance floor, weaving through gyrating couples, in complete contrast to the sultry waltz he was performing with Sharon.

She should be enjoying herself. Wrapped in the arms of a handsome man, dancing sensually while other couples gawked – whether out of jealousy or just plain bewilderment, she wasn't sure. To be perfectly honest, she didn't really care. Ben continued to lead their dance, offering the occasional dip with sporadic twirls and a tighter squeeze on her hand every so often.

The deputy chief was still playing on Sharon's mind. Would she even want to be in a relationship with the captain? They were constantly at each other's throats and Sharon could remember a time when Brenda had called her 'bitch' when she was perfectly aware that Sharon was still within earshot. Still, she hadn't forced that kiss on Brenda – the blonde had kissed back willingly, some might even say with gusto. And what would happen if they  _did_ get together? Brenda wasn't exactly 'out', in fact Sharon herself wasn't truly 'out' either. And even if they were, would anyone at the precinct be accepting of a relationship between the well-respected chief and the universally hated head of Force Investigation?

"Hello? Earth to Sharon? I'm trying to dance with you here." Sharon's eyes snapped wide open, and she looked around her, bewildered, before she realised what was wrong; the music was still pumping, the couples still gyrating, but she had come to a standstill staring at a spot on Ben's shirt, her hand squeezing his as tightly as she could manage. With an apologetic smile and a whisper of 'I'm sorry', she dropped Ben's hand and turned toward the exit.

* * *

The blonde peered deeply in to the glass of wine she was holding, as if it held all the answers to the unknown universe. Brenda was still furious. She had drowned another couple of drinks since Sharon had left to dance with that Greek Adonis guy or whoever that man happened to be. Although it could very well be caused by the alarming amount of alcohol she had consumed, Brenda was convinced that she could still feel the tingling sensation of the brunette's lips over her own. What she wouldn't give for the two of them to have left the party together. They could have gone back to her place (or Sharon's, she supposed) and made love all night. Or they could have found the nearest convenient alley-way wall. Or a bathroom stall. She wasn't fussed.

Bringing the large glass to her lips, she chugged the remainder of her drink. She had seen the brunette leave the building.  _So much for continuing where we left off,_ she thought. Brenda contemplated her next move. Should she follow the older woman outside and persuade her to finish off the night with her? Should she go home and forget about her? Or should she wait it out, go home and make plans to woo her at work? She was conflicted. On one hand, she wanted a night of steamy, passionate and unbridled sex with the captain – on the other hand, she could see the two of them in a much more serious relationship.  _When did that happen?,_ she wondered. When had she crossed the line from hating the brunette and wanting to fuck the insubordination out of her to respecting her work ethic? From that to admiring her work to friendship? And now to this? Was she even prepared for the consequences of any potential romantic relationship with the brunette?

 _Fuck the consequences,_ Brenda thought as she gathered up her coat and purse. She was the Deputy Chief of the LAPD. If she was passionate enough about pursuing a relationship with the captain then she would do just that. She had the power to make co-workers turn a blind-eye to their fraternization and she had all the time in the world over the weekend to plot how exactly to woo the hard-shelled brunette.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> I realise that previous chapters have been incredibly dialogue-heavy, but unfortunately that's what happens when you're trying to re-write a play. Anyhow, for this prologue I thought I would try to tone down the dialogue and focus more on the internal struggles of our leading ladies.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the change of pace, watch out for the racy chapters coming up next.
> 
> ;-)
> 
> As always, reviews keep the story going.
> 
> xo Trixxi.


	7. Act Two Scenes One and Two

**Act 2 Scene 1**

Sharon's footsteps sounded forceful in the dark of the night, sharp staccato piercing through the chilled air. Her mind was torn. Half of her wanted to march right back in to that bar and pull the blonde in for another scorching kiss. The saner half of her realised this wasn't really an option, lest she make a fool of herself. With every step she took that led her further from the bar, she could feel stronger and stronger tugs at the edges of her heart. If she wasn't careful, if she didn't cease all feelings for the blonde, she just might leave her heart behind in that bar.

From behind her, Sharon could hear softer footsteps, slightly more urgent than hers.

"Sharon!" Ben's voice called out to her. She turned around as he caught up to her. He was slightly out of breath from a combination of a brisk walking pace and alcohol consumption.

"Where are you going? We haven't even found a suitable replacement for you so-called girlfriend."

"Karyn, Ben. Her name is Karyn." She let out a little giggle, "And you obviously missed my little indiscretion with the chief," she finished with a smirk.

Ben's eyes opened wide, his jaw slack for a moment before he began to sputter.

"Pope?! You hooked up with Pope? Of all the people –"

She cut him off, "No, not  _that_ chief," she bit her lip before continuing, head lowered toward the ground and a slight blush rising through her cheeks, "the  _other_ one."

Ben stood in shocked silence. Deputy Chief Johnson? Southern belle Johnson? Going-through-a-divorce-totally-straight-had-an-affair-with-Will-Pope, Johnson? His mind was reeling.

He spoke her name, drawing it out in to a whine "Sharon. I know love is blind, but what the  _hell_ were you thinking? God, I was only joking about Cupid! Looks like love truly  _is_ blind and he shot that fucking arrow in the dark." His hands reached out to grip her shoulders, shaking her in frustration "What is  _wrong_ with you?! She's a damn superior officer!"

She shot him a warning glare, reaching up to remove his arms from her shoulders. "Look, we were both drunk, okay? We're off the clock, she's not my immediate superior, so  _relax._ It was a complete one-time thing, and now I'm going to head home and act like nothing happened. Okay?"

Ben's head shook slowly in disapproval, and he cast his weary eyes over his friend's face. "All right. I want to stay here a little while longer, think you can grab a cab?"

She nodded her assent and he gave her a wan smile, before turning on his heel and heading back inside. Even without her gun, Ben knew Sharon would be perfectly safe waiting outside for a cab.

* * *

**Act 2 Scene 2**

Sharon's thoughts continued to consume her, preventing her from finding the courage to call a cab home. Surely it wouldn't hurt to have one more little chat with the chief? Walking slowly in the direction of a familiar Crown Vic with her hands nestling nervously in her jean pockets, she pondered the situation she'd found herself in. Ben didn't know anything, of that she was sure. He may have given her a good telling off, but really, he was laughing at her scars when he himself had never felt a wound. She decided to ignore his advice.

Reaching the Crown Vic of a certain blonde chief, Sharon stopped walking and perched on the hood of the car. Just one little chat.

Eyes fixed on the entrance to the bar, the captain involuntarily gasped when she saw the blonde woman exit, body haloed by the bright lights from inside the bar. She could feel her love for the blonde swell, no doubt aided by the sinful amount of leg the blonde was showing. Brenda was muttering to herself, something the brunette had seen a hundred times over, but there was something different about it tonight. Tonight, Sharon found it endearing. The blonde side-stepped to the left and leaned on the outside wall of the bar, shoulders slumped and handbag resting against her shins.

Studying the blonde like this; vulnerable, face illuminated by the harsh blinking lights of the city, Sharon could have sworn she'd never looked more beautiful. It seemed as if the two brightest stars of the night shone in her eyes, surpassed in beauty only by the shining of her cheeks – flushed, from Merlot and fending off suitors. She swore she could hear birds singing, as if the dawn were just breaking and not the night just setting in. As Brenda's hand moved to rub her own cheek, the brunette continued to stare, wishing that it was her own hand on the blonde's face. When had she gotten this . . . sappy? The captain decided to blame it on the alcohol.

* * *

Brenda sighed and then continued in her mumbling.  
"That  _woman._ Why her? Why someone from fuckin' Force Investigation? Of  _all_ the people in the damn LAPD, why this one? I mean,  _maybe_ if she wasn't in that, that, _stupid_ department. God!"

Sharon had been approaching, slowly, not wanting to break the blonde's reverie. She needn't have worried. Brenda was so wrapped up in her own little world she didn't notice when the brunette snuck up beside her and stood silently, leaning casually against the same wall.

"If she wasn't  _Sharon_ I'd just do it. Screw our titles. If we both just got rid of them, we'd be fine."

The brunette cleared her throat, bringing Brenda's attention to her presence. The younger woman's cheek flushed a deep crimson.  _Had she heard everything I was rambling about?_ The blonde was embarrassed.

"You know, you said earlier we could drop the titles. Why not do that now? Tell me you want this, and Captain Raydor will go back inside her little box and you'll be left with Sharon the woman."

The blonde contemplated her companion, eyes drifting from her cleavage, to her hips sheathed in the tightest of jeans, to the delicate shoes on her feet.

"I take it you heard my little, um," she bit her lip, squeezing her eyes in thought, "speech. Personal speech. Very personal speech. Very personal speech that I didn't really realise I was – "

The brunette cut off her rambling, taking pity on the woman. "Brenda Leigh," she touched her arm lightly, "I enjoyed our little . . . whatever that was, tonight. And I'd very much like to continue it. I came over here to see if you were okay, since you were, you know, talking to yourself. I think we need to have a little chat, don't you?"

"About us? You know there can't  _be_ an us. I'm chief an' you're captain, you're FID an' I'm Major Crimes. Not to mention Pope – what'll he do if he found out about us? An' my boys? Don't think they won't defen' my honour, because they will. They'll threaten you, Cap'n. An' I don't know if I could live with that." The blonde's feverish speech increased her accent tenfold.

"So what? They all ready hate me, Brenda. Don't you think I would rather have them hate me but still have you, than to have them hate me anyway but  _not_ have you?"

A shy smile crept across the blonde's mouth, as she heard how much the captain wanted her. Looking up at the captain through hooded eyes, she turned to her side and took a step closer to the older woman. Spurred on by the copious amounts of Merlot she had drunk, she tipped her head to the side, gazing intently in to the brunette's eyes, searching for permission.

Sharon leant in and captured Brenda's lips with her own, slipping her tongue in to the blonde's eager mouth. The chief closed the gap between them, taking control of the kiss by pressing Sharon's tongue back and entering the captain's mouth. Her hands made their way to the older woman's arms, her fingers digging deeply in to her flesh. Sharon's hands stroked gently at the back of her neck, a bolt of arousal shooting through her belly. She bit the brunette's bottom lip, dragging it out as she ended their kiss.

The blonde husked, "How'd y'know I'd end up out here, Sharon?"

"I don't know. Love? Maybe something not that corny. I guess I just hoped," she smiled, bringing her arms to rest around the blonde's waist, "and here you are," the brunette leaned forward, touching her forehead to the chief's.

With one last quick peck, the blonde left the embrace and started to head towards her car. The captain was confused. After the initial shock, she hurried after Brenda, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

"Where are you going, Brenda Leigh? I thought we agreed to drop titles and just be us?"

The blonde turned and smirked at the older woman. "Wouldn't want you thinkin' I'm too easy now, would I?"

The disappointment Sharon felt was painfully obvious on her face.

"Look, I had fun with you tonight. And I want to do it again. But we're  _just_ figurin' things out, y'know? We're bein' too fast, movin' like lightnin'"

Although she was disappointed, Sharon couldn't help but agree. She nodded her assent.

"I'll see you later, okay? And maybe we can see how this thing goes, yeah?"

Sharon couldn't believe that Brenda, of all people, was letting cooler heads prevail. She sighed.

"All right," the brunette tipped her head to the side and smirked, arms folded across her chest, "You're not going to just leave like this are you?" she asked mischievously.

"Hmm, how would you  _like_ me to leave you, then?" she purred suggestively, reaching out to wrap her arms around the older woman's neck.

Both women moved closer together, bringing their lips together for a searing kiss. Sharon's tongue snaked out of her mouth, tracing the blonde's wide mouth and begging for entrance. Brenda quickly granted it and soon hands were roaming and untempered moans rising from their throats. The two women sprang apart when the sounds from the bar grew louder – someone was exiting the building. Standing a friendly distance apart from one another, the blonde once again addressed the brunette.

"Look, I'll leave now, you go back in there for a bit, an' then I'll text you. Follow my instructions, okay?"

The brunette smirked, "Well, I suppose there's a first for everything, isn't there?" Brenda playfully slapped her arm and bade her goodnight, walking off towards her car.

The captain slumped against the wall, hands once again finding their purchase in her jean pockets. She couldn't believe her luck. Yesterday, she'd been pining after a woman who treated her like shit, and now she had – _well, 'date' wouldn't be an appropriate word_ , she thought,  _ah, yes,_ \- a tryst. She had organised a tryst with the most infuriating woman she had ever met. Shaking her head at her own recklessness, she headed back in to the bar in search for Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Whoops! Turns out I don't know this play as well as I thought I did. Turns out the scene with the Friar and Romeo asking him to marry himself and Juliet etc is next. I'm sure I'll figure something out . . . and THEN sexy times. I'm thinking of deviating from the play so we can get them in to an established relationship (and therefore more than one sexy time), and then very neatly f**king them over as the play dictates. Can't deviate too far now, can we? :-p

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is going to be a looooong labour of love, so bear with me.


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